Sunday I gave patriarchal blessings numbers 37 and 38.  I fast and I pray before each blessing that the words which I speak may be given by the Spirit, and will be the blessings that the Lord desires the person to have.  I am careful in my life that my thoughts and my actions may all be worthy ones so that I may be a fit conduit through which the Spirit may speak these blessings that I hope are from the Lord.

And yet I worry about myself.  I worry that one blessing is too like another.  For sure there are common elements in each one, but they're certainly not carbon copies.  They aren't totally different from each other, either.  Are they my blessings, or the Lord's?

I've prayed about this.  In my scripture reading this morning I think I received an answer and an insight into the Lord's dealings with His ordained priesthood servants.

There was a famine in Samaria caused by the king of Syria besieging the city.  There was no food, and no hope of any food being brought into the city because of the Syrian army which surrounded it.  In this dire circumstance the prophet Elisha made an impossible prediction in the presence of the king.  He said, "Thus saith the Lord, tomorrow about this time shall a measure of fine flour be sold for a shekel, and two measures of barley for a shekel, in the gate of Samaria.

"Then a lord on whose hand the king leaned answered the man of God, and said, Behold, if the Lord would make windows in heaven, might this thing be?"

The man made that statement derisively.  Such a thing was impossible.  Elisha answered, "Behold, thou shalt see it with thine eyes, but shalt not eat thereof."  (2 Kings 7:1-2).

In the night the Lord "made the host of the Syrians to hear a noise of chariots, and a noise of horses, even the noise of a great host:  and they said one to another, Lo, the king of Israel hath hired against us the kings of the Hittites, and the kings of the Egyptians, to come upon us.

"Wherefore they arose and fled in the twilight, and left their tents, and their horses, and their asses, even the camp as it was, and fled for their life."  (2 Kings 7:6-7).

When the people of the city realized that the army was gone, they stampeded out and spoiled the camp, bringing all of the Syrians' provisions into the city.  The man who had answered Elisha derisively was trode upon in the gate, and he died.  (Verses 17 and 20).

It struck me that the man's derisive answer and sad fate were not foreordained.  Because he was unbelieving and rude, the prophet pronounced a spontaneous curse upon him, and the Lord honored the words of His priesthood holder.

The Lord honors the words of His worthy priesthood holders.

I was reading some of my old journals yesterday.  I was impressed that the Lord honored the words that I spoke in the priesthood blessings that I gave.

I serve as an ordinance worker in the temple.  Each day that I serve there I pronounce breath-taking blessings and ordinances upon the heads of the patrons who come, and upon the deceased persons whom they represent.  I'm authorized to do that, and the Lord honors each action.  The blessings are contingent upon the recipient's faithfulness and diligence in seeking them.

The same is true of patriarchal blessings.  Every blessing—and more—will come to pass if the person is faithful and lives for the blessing.  We can have every blessing, but we must live for it.

I am enjoying being a patriarch.  I approach each blessing with a blank mind.  I don't allow myself to think about what I might say to the person.  I lay my hands upon the person's head, and a thought comes.  It's up to me to choose the words to express the thought.  Another thought is there in my mind before I've finished the first.  I give the blessing slowly and deliberately.  When I play the recording back, I'm impressed that there is no hemming or hawing or searching for words.  There are no hesitations except where I have to pause to fight down my emotions.

I still doubt myself, but probably everything is all right.  If I was confident about my ability to give blessings, that would probably be cause for alarm.  A dose of humility goes a long way.